The Kingdom of the Emerald Hills

Kneeling, he waited for the footsteps to produce an owner.

The foliage made excellent cover, yet it also obscured his sight.

The fight in the northern keep only fueled Sutra's desire to return the kingdom seat to it's rightful owner. Her people.

Messengers and shadows alike had managed to track the retreating forces of the defeated Alicians through unknown lands.

He had seen the overwhelming mountain peak he had seen in his dreams a couple hours earlier.

He had indeed visited this place once before. The ability to discern between dreams and visions had become second priority to his most pressing desire.

To find Alice.

The shadow that emerged from the verdant brush caused a wave of nausea to wash over the anxious assassin.

It had been too long since he had donned the mask. At least in the hunt.

The visage was unmistakeable. He stared back at the dark knight he had encountered before.

His intel was right, Alician's retreat took them through the western paths unmarked on any of the official cartographic scrolls found in the kingdom libraries.

They avoided passing through Eagleshire, surely, it would have attracted un-required attention.

They were on the move south. Regrouping and counting their losses, it could be counted on that Alice was preparing for the Court's counter-attack.

A peasant carrying a sword followed closely behind the anti-paladin, fodder for certain. Voices spoke yards beyond the two scouting figures.

He was not alone, fellow members of the local tribes had seen the unwelcome guest's and had sent out war parties to ensure their autonomy in these lands.

Sutra had meet with the tribe elders and made a temporary peace ensuring his ability to continue his tracking of his homelands enemy.

A shade also haunted the woods. His own knight had come to find fresh blood. Carrying his bow and poisoned weapons, the apprentice's knight wandered the deep forest, prowling like a famished tiger.

The dark anti-paladin froze, listening for any conspicuous sound. He and the young warrior stood only mere yards away from the motionless watcher. Under no cover, Sutra focused his energy in obfuscating himself, hoping to be ignored by the dark one.

His back was an open target, primed for a well placed dagger. Sutra hesitated.

A base instinct ripped his desire to kill into shreds.

The snapping twig caused the ancient one to turn on his heel. Sutra peered into the forest examining his escape.

The rushing feet of the warrior and the metallic clang of a dragging polearm was his sign to move.

Rushing through the foliage, Sutra veered through the newly blazoned paths.

A minute or five, he wasn't sure; had elapsed. He stood at the forest line, at the edge of a larger path. It was a freshly cleared road.

Sprinkled with blood and decorated by bits of rotting flesh, the defeated war party Alice had sent were ill prepared for the failure they had not planned for.

With no healers, her army was falling apart, literally.

Up ahead, about a quarter of a mile, the tail of the caravan could be seen.

They were in a rush to join their master.

Sutra would make sure to press light on the pursuit, lest they be aware they were being followed.

The stinging thud confused him.

A well placed arrow found it's way into his right leg. His leg gave out like dead weight in water.

'Not now..." he growled under his exhausted breath.

The anti-paladin, his peasant follower and an archer had managed to trace his hastily made path ahead of them.

With much hesitation, he teleported to safety, avoiding capture once more.

He had indeed grown rusty in his dark proffesion.

This all would have to change.

Soon, he was sure of it, this group would merge with the larger contingent back in Tanglewood.

There, she would be waiting for him.

S
[con't]

_________________
The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu

His flesh tingled with keen interest. His dream evaded his longing grasp. Prophetic visions or zealous nightmares, it all blurred together into one confusing stream of consciousness.

He stood on the verdant fields of tall grass. The breeze caused the field to sway in a rhythmic motion. Almost like an ocean.

The sounds of battle echoed in the distance, just outside view; over a large hill. It called to him.

He strolled up the side of the moist earth. Walking, yet almost like a gliding, not feeling like he was touching the ground underfoot, yet she was connected to him in some form or fashion. He didn't know. Didn't care.

Over the ridge of the peak, two opposing forces faced off for supremacy of the land. It was familiar, in sight, sound, and scent.

The orchards here had once been laden with giving fruit. That was ages ago, all that remained was scorched earth. A petty plot of dead ground to die over.

He wanted to run to them, to show them the ways of peace. That concessions and compromise could indeed prove worthwhile. He tried with all his might to interrupt the fight, but time here was not his to control. This dream was not his own.

Men and women fell, blood bathing the parched earth. Before his very eyes, the ground drank deep. In the place of blood stained mud, fresh dark stalks burst through the wet soil. Leaves brilliantly stained blood red unfurled from the majestic trunks of maturing vegetation.

He reached out to save the dying. He never noticed the tracing blur his own corporal figure had taken. He was a shadow of his former self. It would take days and nights to realized his new condemnation.

Sutra reached out to an eager archer gathering arrows. He felt the warmth of life emanating from the familiar face.

His mind formed the magic, uncontrollable and perfect.

"Touch of Death..." The flowing darkness washed over the breathing man. Instantly, the corpse splayed across his feet.

His mind reeled in panicked horror. As quickly as his grief managed to develop, it was replaced by a new sensation.

Power. Dark and demanding.

This dream was not his own.
This power was not his own.
This grimace was not his own.
The vengeance he would reap, was all his.

The blood of the innocent was shed, mixed without prejudice of the guilty. This land would flourish again. Only under a new moon, under a new reign. Under a new tyrant.

Sutra would see to it that it would all come to pass.

Sutra would see.

Sutra could see.

Sutra see's.

S
[con't]

_________________
The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu

His travels had lead him through his own homelands, up to the northern keeps, back to the newest point's of kings, a brief vision in the glenn of mourning and now the valley of the feathered raptors.

Alice's battered and defeated battalion had made impressive progress, moving under the cover of night.

Sutra would find them soon enough.

That night, invited by secret missive; Sutra found himself in the private home of a familiar from a forgotten past.

It was outside of the kingdom's realm. Well hidden, it was rather unfortified, never having seen an army of men lay siege to it. It had stood for ages unmolested.

His host was most gracious and giving.

The high ceilings and exotic decor was magnified by the burning aroma of incense only found to the lands of the east.

A selection of delicacies were presented before him, both in forms of food and drink. Thankfully, he took his limited fill. Exquisite lavishness was never his expertise nor his preference.

It was something else that drew him here.

She lay propped against a mountain of silk laden pillows. Her bright red and gold robe flowed across the span of the floor. Servants waited on her hand and foot. I would not expect less for such foreign royalty. Her sanguine lips glistened like ripe honey coated strawberries.

She was enchanting beyond measure. Her sun kissed flesh, powdered by ground gold flakes glittered like a thousand night skies. Her powerful eyes could bewitch a warlord. Bright and radiant like a blue pool of spiritual abyss, she penetrated the thought's of men with a smile.

Sutra studied her with curious fascination. He had known her in simpler times. She was a woman of self induced fortune. She knew a life of nothing, yet out of a vision did she built her private empire. Silent and unnoticed, she lived in private comfort.

The unfamiliar calls of peacocks and sweet breezes induced by hanging fans were all so foreign and yet comfortably pleasing at the same time.

"So then Bahuas...have you found her yet?" she asked. He would swear to all the gods of the pantheon that when she spoke, a thousand hearts would melt.

"This...Alice?" Her lips curled as she remained motionless. The white gold choker that started just under her delicate jawline and ended at the base of her collar bone though divinely distracting, limited her motion. He thought it accentuated her statuesque mannerisms even more.

No matter.

"No...not yet. But the time draws near. And I will have my fill of her heart's blood. Only then will I be truly sated..." the dark monarch whispered. His tribulation had begun to take it's toll on his flesh.
The dark scar had been discreetly hidden from prying eyes, yet his fading voice was a different matter altogether.

She politely smiled. His words rang familiar. He was not the first to face an opposing force, nor was he the last to promise an end to his torment. More would come after him.

The stars and the moon shifted with every passing moment.

It was the courtesans song that lulled him to sleep. Her high pitched voice was like a rusty nail drug across silk.

He remembered resting his head against a padded column as he stared at the pretty girl who sang of something beautiful in her native tongue. The words were foreign, the message possibly the same.

His eyelids weighed down by physical fatigue gave way to pleasing slumber.

He could remember slumping his chin deep into his chest.

He could recall the last words he heard, spoken by the one who had known his truest heart.

"In less than a moons waning time...we will be together again..."

Sutra unsuccessfully fought off the spirit of sleep.

"...together again...my love..."

S
[con't]

_________________
The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu

Sutra stood on the sloping hill overlooking the wide open prairies. As far as the eye could see, the land seemed to undulate, almost in a perpetual revolt against itself.

He reluctantly knew that he would have to leave the safe harbor of the forest he had made his home for the past couple months; in order to inspect the shire of the eagles.

This land was uncomfortably barren, yet it was home for some of the strongest in the kingdom.

In the distance, a bright flickering flame defiantly brushed the skies.

He waited before embarking in the expedition. He sensed his solitude had been interrupted by another.

Either his keen skill had warned him of the intrusion or it was only because the new shadow had allowed himself to be detected. Sutra gladly accepted the latter.

"So...it seems that it's a monument to the land..." murmured the young apprentice.

"Well then, perhaps we should pay homage...don't you think?" amusingly spoke the dark knight.

Sutra nodded agreeably at his knight's words of curious wisdom.

Sutra understood that Sir Delphos had an odd sense of honour that many did not comprehend and that even more had never learned.

The teleport to the gates of the temple was quick and unnoticed.

The stone walls surrounded the colossal temple ominously.

Sutra chuckled at the thought of whether this was a measure of protection for the people or the gods.

The fire blazed brilliantly, a loud screeching sound drowning out the calls of the merchants and the crippled. Booths set up and weighed down by all sorts of protective amulets and blessed candles lined the outside of the temple walls.

The cries and pleadings for alms by the crippled made for a morbid and heart wrenching chorus. They begged for silver pieces, prayers, and mercy. Ailments ranging the gamut of broken bones and shattered faiths to blindness and severe deformities could be accounted and cataloged.

Holy men and women stood at the corners preaching differing theologies and aspects of the eclectic span of faiths and beliefs. Shrouded in humble rags and piety, they tear and sweat faces grimaced and contorted in theatrical splendor. They all shared the same common ground.

The end was neigh. That only through the shedding of blood, could the lost cause of the kingdom be redeemed.

Sutra tugged at his dark shroud as he strode through the unsuspecting crowd. They had never seen a monarch travel through the sanctuary unless it was some sort of festival procession. And even then, it was typically an effigy of the crowned ruler. A royal schedule was commonly saturated with important ventures, and an graven image of themselves should be enough to appease the masses.

Occasionally, Sutra could make out the form of his knight, who preferred to remain comfortably out of sight. This allowed him the sense of self imposed freedom.

Sutra smiles wondering how many of us were ever really free.

Reaching the gates, armored guards halted the dark stranger and demanded to know his business there.

Producing a kingdom pass typically granted to local officials, the guards cautiously allowed him passage.

A place of free worship, at the local clergy's discretion.

How convenient.

Sutra made a mental note to add this to his already busy agenda.

He paced towards the center of the ancient temple, lulled to the furiously burning pillar of fire.

Standing at a comfortable distance, he noticed the marking on the floor beneath him. The tiled floor was sectioned off in circular colored partitions.

Different levels of prophets, scholars, and wizards stood at different sections of colored stone.

The brighter the stone, the closer one would stand to the fire.

Sutra motioned to a parishioner and inquired as to the curious scene.

"You see, the different spheres represent one degree of piety. This fire represent the ever burning desire of the gods for us to know them. All gods are represented in this fire, for it is a universal element." the old man spoke.

Without breaking his focus on the towering inferno, Sutra posed, "So this sphere system, who walks at the base of this fire?"

The old mans eyes widened in fanatical fervor. "Why, only the gods themselves stand in the fire, for they are the fire. And only the true prophets of the gods stand at the base, proving to us that they listen and that they speak to us through them." His eyes teared up at his seemingly rehearsed words.

Sutra frowned and focused on the old mans wrinkled face. "Have you ever seen a prophet stand there..." Sutra motioned to the fire. "At the base?"

A wave of unconvinced sorrow washed over the mans face. "No. Not yet. The gods have not sent a true representative yet, but they will."

Sutra nodded and thanked the learned man who graciously bowed and limped away.

"Hellfire..." spoke a dark voice.
"What?"
"Where I have been....we call that..." His finger pointed at the fire. "Hellfire."

Sutra pondered for a moment and questioned.

"You mean to tell me that they pray to their gods of light, and in reality; they worship at the altar of hellfire?"

The dark knight's frown lightens into an amused smiled.

"What is ones dark god may very well be anothers god of light."

Sutra smirked at the cryptic reply.

He understood.

The echoing voice broke the sacred mantras recited by the faithful in the hall.

"Like the path to heaven or the road to hell
our choice is our own, consequences bind."

A lone figure stood at the first sphere and stepped into the second.

"We are the kings of wisdom, the fools as well.
We are the gods to many, we are humble men."

The figure stepped into the third sphere and bellowed out louder.

"We who build great works just to break them down.
We who make our rules so we never fail."

The veiled figure stepped into the fourth. The hall began to bustle as excited yells erupted. Some called for the person to halt their procession towards the flame, others shouted the name of their gods in hopes for a true prophet.

"Shall I think of honour as lies
or lament it's aged slow demise?"

The figures clothing began to smolder as they stepped into the fifth sphere. Cries of fear, panic, and faith filled the temple center.

"Shall I stand as a total stranger
on this day in this stone chamber?"

One sphere left, the one at the base the old man had previously mentioned to belong only to the true seers.

The figure stumbled into the six and final sphere, a harmonious hushed silence fell upon the anxious crowd.

Instantly, the figure erupted into flames, the cries of horrified clergy and magicians rocked the walls.

The burning figure fell into the swallowing fire. Nothing.

Men tore at their clothing in revulsion and angry panic.

Sutra stood frozen having witnessed the scene.

"Amateurs..." chided the dark knight.

"A little respect for the deceased sir!?" barked the flustered squire.

"The dead?" Sir Delphos howled in laughter. "That person is more alive than these walking corpses will ever be!"

"You'll see young Sutra...one day. You'll see." replied the ancient anti-paladin.

Sutra stood alone in the chaotic halls as he replayed his knight's words in his convoluted mind.

"One day...you'll see."

S
[con't]

_________________
The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu

Alice looked into the scrying pool and smiled. The scene before her of Sutra and his Knight in the temple.

"Everything is going according to plan my Lord" she said to the gathering shadows "The pretend King runs in circles and sees only what we show him. He is powerless to stop your resurrection and acension to the throne. We have placed our generals as his closeset advisors, and right now one teaches him of the peace of oblivion"

The shadow smiled. Soon the return would be at hand